The Romantic on The Romance Reviews

Thursday, February 21, 2013

We interrupt our regularly scheduled postings to
bring you this announcement:

I am COMPLETELY BLOWN AWAY!!!!

I have JUST received these links of a review of my
latest book, Dear Love: Diary of a Man's Desire!!!

RAWSISTAZ Literary Group specializes in spotlighting
African-American authors/literature, but it would appear that I have
transcended the ethnic boundaries to be graced with a positive review....given
a 4 out of 5 possible stars!!!

The review:

RAW Rating: 4.0 (out of 5)

Alejandro set the stage with this potent suggestion
'Imagine if you will, feeling with such intensity, a passionate love that
cannot be contained in a single heart; each beat fracturing the hull, sinking
this titanic of emotions deeper into the oceans of amour.'

Each poem is a poetic journey through the heart of
a very expressive, very sensitive man. Alejandro emphatically speaks of a
love so passionate and so overpowering that even if his love bids him goodbye,
he would still love her with all the pieces of his broken heart.

DEAR LOVE: Diary of a Man's Desire is a collection
of love letters written to inspire, incite, and stir the emotions of the mind,
body, and soul. But, what makes his poems so touching, and somewhat
empathetic is the fact that Alejandro seemingly speaks of a love he has yet to
fully embrace. A love that exits in the corridors of his dreams, or at
best a love that was just beyond his grasp. I can say it was almost
surreal sharing something so verbally intimate from the opposite sex, but it is
here, written in black and white. I urge you to take this journey, it will warm
you inside!

Saturday, February 2, 2013

Slowly the golden light faded into darkness, and evening followed cool
and clear. The caravan had arrived at the river Granicus. A wind blew from the
east, and one by one the stars emerged from behind the dark veil of night.

“From here, the river will lead us to
Propontis, my lady. When we arrive at Abydos, we may attempt to find passage
across the straight to Sestos.” Said Coroebus.

“Will it be possible to remain
undetected?” Said Cassandra.

“That may prove difficult, because it is
a busy port.” Said Coroebus.

“Then let us take a different path.” Said
Arisbe. “We cannot risk detection, otherwise we will be captured and taken back
to Troy.”

“She is right, Coroebus.” Said Cassandra.

“With all due respect, my lady. While I
can appreciate the need to avoid detection, time is not our ally, and for the
sake of expediency it is imperative that we cross from Abydos to Sestos.” Said
Coroebus.

“I agree.” Interjected Calchas. “We must
make it across the Aegean as quickly as possible, or our efforts to make it
this far will be all for naught.”

“Why must you insist on this port?” Said
Cassandra.

“Because it is the narrowest point.” Said
Coroebus.

Cassandra considered his counsel as
Calchas removed their equipment from the horses to erect the tents. Coroebus
moved to assist him, and Arisbe gathered wood to build a fire.

“Will it be possible to remain
undetected?” Said Cassandra. “Will you give me your word?”

“It is possible, my lady, but regardless
of what happens, I give you my word that I will get you to Sestos.”

“Very well.” Said Cassandra. “We leave in
the morning.”

After they had set up camp, Cassandra
walked to the riverbank to retrieve a pail of water. The moon lingered higher
into the sky, and swayed on the surface when she knelt and submerged the
bucket. She heard the water splash. It rose and foamed at her feet. At that
moment the water roared and rushed and an unseen force shoved Cassandra away.
She fell onto dry land, but saw a light rise from the depths of the river. The
waters fiercely rolled this way and that, and looked like white flames, as the
light beneath the surface grew more intense.

Cassandra’s companions approached and
pulled her away as a mysterious figure rose from the waters, surrounded by
angry foam and blinding light.

“Who dares disturb the waters of my
father?” Said the voice of a woman, clear and musical. She looked grave and
beautiful; clad in white with long silver hair, but no sign of age was upon her
save for in the depths of her eyes.

The companions stared in awe at the
lovely creature that illuminated the darkness. The waters subsided, and she
glided toward the shore, but her luminescence maintained its brightness.
Cassandra stood and stared at the stranger, but before she could utter a single
word the newcomer reached out and caressed Cassandra’s red hair.

“I have never seen such a lovely color in
a woman’s hair.”

“Who are you?” Demanded Cassandra. “What
are you?”

“Oh, but these eyes are familiar. I
recognize their shade, and their sadness.” Said the stranger. “They are much
like those of your brother.”

“My broth—“ Said Cassandra, but her words
trailed off.

“You are a daughter of King Priam of
Troy, are you not?”

“How do you know who I am, and who are
you?”

“I am Alexirho, daughter of the
river-god, Cebren.”

“You are a nymph?” Said Arisbe.

“Yes.”

“How do you know my father?” Said
Cassandra. “And to which of my brothers do you refer?”

“I knew your father long ago, in his
youth, before he met your mother. I knew him, and loved him when he wandered
through this countryside as a prince while Hercules attacked Troy, and killed
your grandfather, King Laomedon.”

“Do not speak such blasphemies about my
father!” Said Cassandra.

“It is not my intention to upset you,
dear child, but clearly there are things about your father that you do not
know.” Said Alexirho.

“What do you know about King Priam that
compels you to say such things?” Said Coroebus.

“No, I do not want to hear it!” Shouted
Cassandra as Arisbe embraced her.

“Oh, but you must, dear child. For you
and I share a common enemy, and I am inclined to assist you on your endeavor.”
Said Alexirho.

Cassandra turned away from Arisbe’s
shoulder and gazed upon the nymph with tears welling in her eyes. A thunderous
silence echoed between them.

“Speak.” Said Cassandra.

At length Alexirho spoke again. “I met
your father when he approached the dawn of adulthood. Not much older than Paris
was when he returned to Troy from Mount Ida. And like Paris, your father fell
in love with a nymph who bore him a son.”

“What?” Said Cassandra.

“Yes. Eenoni, who is also a daughter of
the river-god Cebren, bore Paris a son. Whom he chose to abandon for the prize
that Aphrodite has promised him.”

“And who is this son of Priam that you
speak of?” Said Coroebus.

“Aesacus.” Said Alexirho.

Cassandra caught her breath.

“I don’t understand, my lady. What is the
problem?” Said Coroebus.

Cassandra sat and pondered the gravity of
the revelation. She reminded Coroebus that Aesacus had been the one present at
her birth, when she had been brought into the world with Paris. Aesacus had
been the one who interpreted the dream of Queen Hecuba as a prophecy that Paris
would be the one to bring about the fall of Troy.

Coroebus’ eyes grew wide as realization
dawned on his face.

Alexirho proceeded to reveal that Priam
raised Aesacus in Troy, but that Aesacus left for the countryside after Hecuba
berated him for his prophecy about Paris. And like the other men of Troy,
Aesacus too fell in love with a daughter of the river-god, Cebren when he met
Hesperia.

“Wait a minute.” Said Cassandra. “That
would mean—“

Alexirho interrupted her with the
remainder of the tale. The nymph clarified that while Aesacus fell in love with
Hesperia, he did not know the truth of his lineage.

“You never told him you were his mother?”
Said Cassandra.

“No.” Said Alexirho. “I could not tell
him, because I had to protect him. I could not bear the pain he would feel if
he were to learn that I, his mother, allowed him to live beyond my embrace.”

“So, all his life, he believed that Queen
Hecuba was his mother?” Said Coroebus.

“Yes.” Said Alexirho. “However, Hecuba
could never feel the grief I felt when Aesacus died.”

“How did that happen?” Said Cassandra.

Alexirho knelt before the Trojan princess
and told her of how Aesacus pursued Hesperia. He followed her into the woods,
chased her into the mountains, and rushed after her into the river. Regardless
of her effort to elude him, his devotion remained unwavering.

Word had reached Mount Olympus about the
unconditional love that Aesacus felt for Hesperia, and they watched with wonder
and amusement as he pursued the predilection for his passion. Soon, even Zeus
was inclined to urge Aphrodite to fulfill the young man’s desire. But the
goddess grew enraged with the mortal for he appeared to love a nymph more than
he loved her, and furthermore, he had failed to call upon the goddess of love
in his endeavor.

Aphrodite asked that Ariadne, the goddess
of snakes, have a poisonous serpent strike Hesperia and kill her. Ariadne
agreed after Aphrodite promised to permit her to return to the Earth where she
might walk on the land of her father once more.

Ariadne did as Aphrodite requested, and
to ensure that none of the other gods knew what she did, Aphrodite cast Ariadne
into a maze of tunnels beneath the surface of the Earth to wonder for eternity.

“What became of Aesacus?” Said Cassandra.

After Hesperia died, Aesacus could not
bear to live without her, and leapt from a high cliff into the sea. However, as
he plunged to his death, Tethys, a Titaness and aquatic sea goddess took pity
on him and changed him into a bird.

“My son was forever lost to me as a
mortal, but I watch him as he lives in the form of a diving bird.” Said
Alexirho. “Still, I mourned them both, and wish to exact my revenge on
Aphrodite in any way I can.”

“You do realize the danger of such
actions, do you not?” Said Coroebus.

“Do you?” Asked Alexirho.

Coroebus nodded.

Cassandra stood. “How do you intend to
help?”

“I can take you by river to Abydos.” Said
Alexirho.

“We can travel to Abydos by land.” Said
Cassandra.

“Yes, that is true. However your absence
from Troy has not gone unnoticed, and there are many in the service of your
father roaming these lands. Emissaries also venture to and fro with tidings of
the comings and goings between kingdoms. It would be to your advantage to
accept the safe passage that I offer.”

Cassandra considered Alexirho’s offer.

“Time is of the essence. You cannot lose,
even a day.”

“I agree, my lady.” Said Coroebus.

That night, the company slept beneath the
stars. Alexirho kept a watchful eye from the river, and cast a blanket of
serenity over them to sleep without fear. They had grown weary in body and in
mind, and quickly fell into a long sleep.

No sound or dream disturbed his or her
slumber, save for Cassandra, whose thoughts remained on her brothers, who
journeyed to Sparta, and her family in Troy.

She thought of her mother, Queen Hecuba,
and how the Queen had dealt with her father. Surely, King Priam would be
furious with them both, but they had no other choice. He wouldn’t listen!

Her mind wandered to Troylus, her
youngest brother. He had risked exposing his secret love affair with Cressida
by helping them escape. And what would King Priam say of the involvement of his
trust priest, Calchas?

Nestled in the comfort of her wool
blanket, she finally drifted to sleep.

Cassandra felt her eyes open, but could not move. There was a silence,
for unexpectedly the darkness pressed upon her, full of secret purpose. She
struggled to remain calm as her eyes darted to and fro while an unseen entity
held her body still. Her breathing quickened. Her voice failed her, and
remained lodged in her throat when she attempted to scream.

The shadows danced, and filled her with
fear before she felt the familiar touch of Apollo. His gaze fell upon her and
morphed into an intense stare. He lifted her, and cradled her protectively in
his arms. Her heart pounded against her chest as she stared at him, trying to
gauge his mood and feelings, but the Sun god remained impenetrable.

“I’ve missed you.” Apollo whispered
tenderly.

Cassandra tensed as he placed her on the
altar of the temple that rose around them. And when he placed his hand on her
lower abdomen, she felt a sensation she could not describe. Without realizing
she had been disrobed, she lay naked before him. His long graceful fingers
caressed her skin, and she moaned. When she felt his fingertips circle her
nipples, she felt as though he strummed the surface of the sea with as much
care as he played his lyre.

No longer paralyzed, she turned slightly
to face him. His hazel eyes studied her; he looked into her deep blue eyes as
if he was staring into her soul, into her heart, searching for a place within
where he might belong.

As she stared at his perfect lips she
remembered the desire that dripped from his kiss when she surrendered herself
to that moment when he ravaged her mouth with his tongue. A raw, untapped
passion rose from the depths of eternity, and seared her soul.

“I would forego my seat on Mount Olympus
for the honor of your love.” Said Apollo.

Cassandra turned away from him with tears
welling in her eyes. She wanted to love him. If it meant that Troy would be
saved, and her family would be spared. If it meant that she could end his
suffering, and they would be together until the end of time. Cassandra would
love Apollo as he longed to be loved.

“Why must you ask of me that which I am
unable to feel?” Said Cassandra.

“The heart wants what the heart wants.
Even that of a god.” Said Apollo.

“But for what reason?” Said Cassandra. “There
are many others from which to choose. Many who are lovelier than me; many who
possess the capacity to fulfill your passionate proclivities.”

“I find none to be lovelier than you,
Cassandra. And to know that you love me the way the heart is intended to love
would be the fulfillment of my greatest desire.”

“I cannot grant you what I do not
possess.” Said Cassandra.

“I have all of eternity to wait.” Said
Apollo, and he vanished.

Cassandra woke with a start. The cold morning air blew on her face. She
was lying on her back, and turned to see her companions also rousing from their
sleep.

They ate a little, and after packing
their belongings prepared to set off down the river.

“What about the horses?” Said Arisbe.

“They are of no use to you now. You would
risk being discovered if you tried to cross Propontis with them, and even then,
they would be a burden you cannot afford to bear when you reach the Aegean.”
Said Alexirho.

The nymph fashioned a boat out of a log
that bobbed on the surface of the water near the wooded north bank of the
river. The branches waved gently in the breeze of the grey morning as the
company climbed aboard.

The boat drifted with the current of the
river as Alexirho commanded, aware that time was pressing, and that fate had
not been idle during the hours they slept.

The lands gradually changed: the trees
thinned and disappeared completely. The mountains on the horizon fell in the
distance, and the landscape stretched far and wide into various shades of
green.

“When you arrive at Sestos, it is
imperative that you go with caution to the temple of Aphrodite.” Said Alexirho.

“Why?” Said Cassandra.

“She will sense the presence of this,”
said Alexirho as she brandished a sword. “It is the sword of Ariadne, and it is
the only blade strong enough to free the tortured and captured soul of Hero.
You must free her, and she will guide you across the land to the shores of the
Aegean. After you cross the Aegean, go to the labyrinth where Ariadne is held
prisoner. Present her with this blade, and she will lead you through the maze
of underground passages to find the entrance to the Underworld where you will
find the assistance you seek.”

They gazed upon the sword with wonder.
Its splendor accentuated by the elegantly carved hilt, masterful design of the
blade, and the placement of colorful, shinning stones.

“When Aphrodite discovers what you have
done, she will enlist gods, creatures and mortals to seek you out and punish
you.” Said Alexirho. “You may fear the goddess, but you do not yet fear her
enough. And where until now you have merely ventured beyond the high walls of
Troy, once you cross Propontis there will be no turning back.”

There was a heavy silence. Cassandra gave
no answer, her mind puzzled with fear and doubt. Coroebus pursed his lips, but
said nothing and looked out at the horizon. Arisbe frowned, and worry filled
her eyes as she turned to Cassandra and touched her hand. Calchas fidgeted and
looked uncomfortable. His eyes darted back and forth between his companions,
and then his eyes fell on the nymph who studied him carefully. She squinted at
him with suspicious eyes, and he turned away quickly.

The boat continued along the river,
carrying the caravan to the dark destiny that had been chosen for each of them
without their knowledge.

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Dear Love: Diary of a Man's Desire

About Me

Felix Alexander is a Mexican-born, American-raised novelist, and poet of Mexican and Puerto Rican descent.
Acclaimed by readers for his poetic prose, his indie releases include: Dear Love: Diary of a Man’s Desire, a collection of love letters, and poems; and The Romantic, a novel.
The release, and increasing popularity of his debut novel has earned Felix a growing audience. With the assistance of the Independent Author Network, and GoodReads, his online presence has gradually expanded across social media platforms: Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Authors Database, Google + andTsu.
Being third-generation military, after a grandfather and uncle who served in the Korean War and Vietnam War, respectively, Alexander is proud of his service in the U.S. Army, and grateful for his experience. After his honorable discharge, he embarked on the long and lonely journey of a writer.
Felix writes cozy and gothic mysteries, historical fantasy, MG fantasy, literary and contemporary romance.